The Seal Of Approval
by diddymus
Summary: Set during Order of the Phoenix. AU Hogwarts. Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor, is persuaded to appoint some further Ministry aid at the castle. The House of Malfoy is happy to oblige.
1. In which Narcissa embarks upon the plan

Title: **The Seal Of Approval**

Author: diddymus

Premise: Set during **Order of the Phoenix**. AU Hogwarts. Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor, is persuaded to appoint some further Ministry aid at the castle. The House of Malfoy is happy to oblige.

Featuring: _Dolores Umbridge, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood_.

* * *

Chapter One

Narcissa unclasped a bony hand to reach for the painted teacup on the desk. The very sight of the pastel pink walls offended her glassy eyes, so instead she focused down on the black tea leaves floating in her cup. A kitten mewed somewhere in a nearby wall-plate. The lady Malfoy suppressed a sigh.

"So, I hear you've removed that abolition who claimed to teach Divination, Dolores?" She asked, polite and nasal in tone.

Professor Umbridge released a marvellous smile above her own steaming teacup. "Oh yes," she proclaimed, "Yes that Trelawney woman, she had to be let go. We can't afford quite so much nonsense in a Ministry-approved school, now, can we?"

"Of course," Narcissa agreed, a thin-lipped smile passing falsely across her graceful features.

The pink professor returned the acknowledgement happily, oblivious, it seemed, to its fallacy. She adjusted her feathered coat importantly, shaking off minute particles with an almost neurotic hand.

"I must say it is _so_ nice to take tea with... shall we say, more _kindred_ spirits again." Dolores lowered her cup, putting a hand across the table welcomingly to her acquaintance. "These children are awfully tiresome when you have to see them every day."

"I can well imagine," Narcissa added with a nod, perfectly rehearsed. Her orders were absolute, and her behaviour would be faultless to reflect them.

"And the new approaches we have been putting into practice here," Umbridge added proudly, "Well, they are producing some marvellous talent. Your young Draco is simply _shining_ on the new Defensive Magic curriculum."

Narcissa nodded, another small smile forcing itself into being. "With your help, Dolores, I am sure."

"Oh," the professor replied, "Well now..." She blushed, released her small, high-pitched laugh.

It pierced Narcissa's very soul. She began to wonder how her young son had the patience to be in the same room as the woman, let alone excel in her so-called classes.

"My dear Lucius is _very_ proud to see him doing well, you know," Narcissa exclaimed purposefully. "He says it must be down to a real tutor in the subject at last, someone with true talent for teaching."

Umbridge turned a girlish shade of red. "_Mr Malfoy_?" She asked, almost disbelievingly. "Oh my, I- that is, well... so very marvellous." She ended on a hint of a sigh.

Narcissa smiled to herself beneath her pouted lips. Lucius had been right. The woman was clearly a big fan of praise from the Malfoys.

"You know he was a tutor, for a short while," Narcissa added for interest.

"Really?" Dolores exclaimed. "I'd wager he was masterful in a classroom."

"Indeed," the manicured Malfoy replied, setting down her cup. "Unfortunately his duties at the Ministry prevented the continuation of such a career. One must... make sacrifices, you know."

"Ah yes," the professor replied wistfully, "the Ministry always comes first to Lucius, does it not?"

Narcissa found another smile to produce, oddly threatened by the schoolgirl gleam in the undersecretary's eyes. She reviewed the plan once more in her mind. This was going to be a smooth manipulation, she could just tell.


	2. In which Umbridge is a visionary

Chapter Two

Hermione entered the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom with a lump in her throat. After seeing the marks on Harry's arm from his detention with Umbridge, being summoned to see the wretched woman filled her with trepidation. She partitioned the doors carefully, stepping inside with wide eyes glancing around the room.

A sigh of relief escaped her. Other students. So she hadn't been summoned alone. Luna Lovegood stood happily on the edge of a gaggle of other fifth-years, who in turn were staring not-so-happily at her, and seemed to be edging from her side swiftly.

Hermione made for her familiar friend. "Hello Luna," she said awkwardly, rousing the Ravenclaw girl from her daydream. Luna's pale eyes fell to her.

"Oh Hermione, you're the last one in. That's the whole Arithmancy class now..."

Hermione looked around her, taking in the faces that were sneaking her looks of horror as she spoke to Luna. It was indeed the Arithmancy class, the whole fifth year. She looked back to Luna, about to speak, but the wispy blonde had turned her face to ceiling once more, absent and smiling. Hermione bit her lip, wondering how to reclaim her attention.

"_Hem-hem_."

A high-pitched cough forced the room to look upward. Professor Umbridge, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, and acting Headmistress through the absence of Dumbledore, smiled down at the students with an unnerving pleasantness.

"Students of Arithmancy," she said, waving a pink-gloved hand over them in superior fashion. "I have called you here to inform you of the new Ministry requirements for the completion of your course."

"What?" Someone whispered behind Hermione. "Not another class changing!"

"This is ridiculous!" Another voice added.

"**A-HEM**."

Umbridge stared down at the talking pair, eyes widening. Hermione watched her, the hatred welling in her veins.

"Those of you who wish to complete this class at OWL level," Dolores began, casting a dark look over the crowd. "If indeed, any of you are capable of such things," she added casually, "will be required to attend an additional class entitled 'Ministry Application of Arithmantics', to ensure that your knowledge is within the appropriate bounds."

Bounds on knowledge. Hermione scoffed inwardly. The woman was absurd.

"Will it be with Professor Vector, Miss Umbridge?" Luna enquired, not so much looking at, as_ through_ her addressee.

Umbridge viewed her disdainfully, as though Luna were something she had just found stuck to the sole of her sensible heels. The professor held her hands together in choir fashion, straightening up proudly to reply.

"Your current Professor does not possess the appropriate disposition for the extra tuition."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. That probably meant Vector had refused to teach differently. She wondered sadly if he'd be next for the Trelawney treatment.

"Miss... erm... Lovegood, is it?"

Luna nodded happily. Umbridge continued in the same dominating tone.

"The class will be taught by a visiting professor, one who is, shall we say, a veritable expert in the subject, and a very good friend to the Ministry and its protocols."

That could only mean bad news. Hermione frowned at Umbridge, deflated to find that her disturbingly pleasant exterior had somehow become even stranger. It almost seemed like she was gushing, but very repressedly. There was a peculiar gleam about her at the mention of the new staff member. She smiled at them, but firmly, and backed off a little, back into the raised office above them all.

"Anyone intending to continue the class will attend MAA on Thursdays at twelve precisely. You'll have to rearrange your lunch hours accordingly. That is all."


	3. In which Hermione's world revolves

Chapter Three

Hermione grumbled her way up to the fifth floor, Luna trailing behind her with a little hummed tune under her breath. The Gryffindor walked hunched, clasping her heavy copy of 'Arithmancy For The Advanced' across her chest. She heaved the book, a sour look on her face. Whilst Hermione had never been one to say no to extra tuition, a suspicious rumour had been circulating in Potions about the identity of their new tutor. Having got the measure of Dolores Umbridge in the past few months, Hermione was almost certain that the rumours would be true.

"It might not be him, you know," Luna mused in a soft drawl.

Hermione stopped on the stairs, swinging with all the force of her textbook to face her classmate.

"It's going to be him, Luna," Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes. "This makes perfect sense for Umbridge. Hire a Death Eater! Why not indeed?"

Luna walked on up the stairs, forcing Hermione to follow. "What's the worst that could happen? He's not going to try anything in these old walls, surely..."

Hermione frowned at the Ravenclaw. She was far too trusting of the castle to keep them all safe.

"But then what's he doing here? Hmmm? If it's not to try and attack Harry, or Dumbledore?"

Luna mused this one out a little longer, then shrugged off the question dreamily. "Perhaps he just really likes Arithmancy."

Hermione released a frustrated growl, attracting the attention of the worried-looking students they had just reached. Some of them chuckled at her, looking away to gossip. Others cast strange looks at Luna, who today sported a painted tattoo of a frog on her left cheek. Hermione too snuck another look at the blonde beside her. Sometimes she wondered if it would be better not to reach out and befriend people quite so much.

Padma Patil emerged behind them from the staircase, which promptly removed itself from the adjacent doorway, deciding it had let in enough fifth-floor people for one day.

"It is true Hermione?" She asked, a little breathless. "Is it him?"

"No-one's been let in yet," Hermione confirmed. She let go of her book with one arm, only to find it trembled when it became loose. She gripped the textbook once more, casting an uncertain glance to Padma. "We'll know in about a minute."

Padma frowned. She passed them to join her fellow Ravenclaws against the wall, all of whom carried their textbooks and cast nervous looks to the door in the same way Hermione did. The only students who looked calm were the Slytherin girls who surrounded the doorway eagerly, gossiping to one another with wry, smiling faces. And Luna was calm, of course. Luna was always frustratingly calm.

After a moment of hesitation, a clock somewhere chimed twelve noon. As the distant bells reverberated through the halls and corridors, a clicking started from within the door of the classroom now emblazoned **MAA**. A loud creak signalled the door's unlocking, after which it slowly swung away to give access.

Behind it, a man sat at the head desk. As the crowd burst in, Hermione fell behind it, left only to wonder what the girlish gasps of the Slytherins at the front could mean. Were they disappointed? Happy? Or something else? By the time the gaggle had started to disperse, the man had risen from the desk.

Everything hit Hermione at once. The white-blonde hair held back by velvet. The shock of being so very right in her suspicions. The cool, ice-filled eyes that found her among the crowd, narrowing gleefully. The half-whispers she could hear from the crowd around her. That face. That presence. The black velvet, silk and silver. So suave. So austere.

The Hogwarts Students came face to face with a Death Eater in disguise.

"Good Afternoon Fifth-Years."

The words dripped like molten metal from his tongue.

Hermione took a seat beside Luna, her eyes never leaving the figure at the front.

"Welcome to MAA."

He smiled a cruel, curved smile, cobalt eyes sweeping the crowd. He found Hermione's brown eyes again. The smile fell away.

"You may address me as Mr Malfoy."


	4. In which Lucius investigates his class

Chapter Four

Lucius Malfoy never felt more powerful than when he was among children.

Adults had sensibilities. Adults could confer with one another. Adults understood power, money, influence, dominance. For an adult to fear Lucius was simply a sensible thing to do.

Children had only instinct. No matter what one could impart to a child, they could still only be sure of their own feelings. For a child to fear Lucius Malfoy, without even knowing his name, meant that the very air around him was teeming with his power. The Hogwarts students had parted like a great sea before him when he walked, cane in hand, to the Professor's Quarters. A few first years that had the misfortune to be blocking a doorway even cried a little when they were ordered to vanish.

Even here, in a class of fifteen year olds, Lucius commanded utter silence. They watched him, hardly breathing, not daring to speak. Some looked down at their desks when his eyes found them. Some managed a moment of contact, then swallowed and hurriedly found their books and parchment.

Only one held his gaze.

She was no damned child. The mudblood Granger dared to meet his gaze, and although he could see the fear behind her stare, the defiance and hatred were more than clear, and far stronger than the fear he could instil.

He hated it. He broke their eye contact before she did, sweeping his cane to the blackboard, where words gradually appeared. Lucius smiled cordially to Draco's young friends, who had taken the first row of seats for themselves.

"Your current Arithmancy textbooks will be sufficient for our needs," he stated. "You'll only need the charts at the back. The 'Procedures' chapter is currently being revised by the Ministry."

To reflect this, the attentive board inscribed** DO NOT ADHERE TO CURRENT PROCEDURES** in clear white print.

"In the meanwhile, I will be guiding you through the revision of that area. We shall see if we can't brush away some of the hokey little fairytales old Vector has been spinning for you."

The Slytherin girls tittered a little. Lucius smirked at them, satisfied with their approval. It was apparent, however, that they were the only ones prepared to laugh at Vector and his traditionalism. Lucius felt that would have to be part of his hidden curriculum. It would be interesting to see how many minds he could change, and how quickly.

"The Ministry of Magic believes that divining the future and seeking guidance through Arithmantic methods ought to be left to serious professionals. I assume," Lucius drawled, pacing along the front row, "that some of you aspire to be professionals, and an OWL in the new Ministry-set examinations will help you on your way, so-"

"Excuse me _Professor_."

Lucius's eyes snapped to the back row. Granger sat upright, hand boldly raised. Her face was deadly serious.

"Miss Granger," he began, "I am _truly shocked_ to find that you would be the first to interrupt me."

The front row chuckled lowly at his potent sarcasm. Granger cast them a dark look, returning her gaze to Lucius's.

"Ministry-set examinations, sir? Who exactly will be setting them?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes to her. A small smile crept into the corner of his mouth.

"You ask as though you already know the answer, Miss Granger."

A silence followed, in which the Gryffindor girl let out a small sigh. "You'll be writing them, won't you, _Professor Malfoy_?"

"Indeed," Lucius replied happily. The intuitive blackboard began to scribe once more. **ALL ARITHMANCY EXAMINATIONS WILL BE SET BY MR MALFOY**.

"Now, Miss Granger, if you could keep any more questions that you have already answered for a more appropriate time." The front row giggled again, their volume gently rising. "Perhaps you could ask them to _yourself_ after we've all gone."

Granger's eyes faltered. Lucius smiled widely. He felt as though he was going to enjoy keeping up this pretence.


	5. In which the game begins

Chapter Five

**ALL ARITHMANCERS MUST REGISTER IMPORTANT PREMONITIONS WITH THE MINISTRY.**

Hermione huffed her way through forty minutes of concrete restrictions.

**DIRECT DIVINATION OF NUMERACY IS RESTRICTED TO MINISTRY-APPROVED ARITHMANCERS ONLY**.

Every scrape of the chalk on the shorthand blackboard grated on her ears.

**ANY ARITHMANCER FOUND TO WITHOLD IMPORTANT INFORMATION WILL BE PUNISHED.**

His voice sounded over the scraping, a silver-smooth drawl of self-importance.

**MR MALFOY RESERVES THE RIGHT TO REVOKE YOUR ARITHMATIC PRIVELLEGES.**

Hermione stopped listening. It was all so ridiculous.

**MR MALFOY IS A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE MINISTRY, AND DESERVES YOUR UTMOST RESPECT.**

The words on the board began to blur. Hermione had almost no idea how she would cope with this class.

**YOU SHOULD BE LISTENING TO MR MALFOY.**

Scrape, scrape, scrape. Did any of it really matter?

**YOUR IGNORANCE WILL NOT GO UNPUNISHED.**

Hermione felt the familiar sting of injustice welling into her chest. What had Hogwarts become since Umbridge arrived?

A firm hand suddenly took her by the shoulder, dragging her up from her seat. She started, somewhat dazed, struggling to stand straight with a harsh grip digging into her collarbone. The noise of the room flooded into Hermione's ear, all gasps and heavy breaths.

Lucius Malfoy towered over her, mouth half-open in a curved grimace. His eyes narrowed viciously.

"Have we brought you back to consciousness at last, _Miss_ Granger?"

"I-, I..."

He threw her back from her seat aimlessly. Hermione stumbled, her shoulder stinging.

Lucius turned on her, his thin smile unsettling every nerve she possessed.

"Tell me now, Miss Granger, what time exactly do your classes finish today?"

The innocuous question threw her. "I, um. F-four. They... they finish at four." She ended with a questioning tone, head reeling from the rush of the last ten seconds.

Lucius closed in on her at the back of the room, turning his head to hers, obscuring his face from the rest of the class. His eyes changed. Their standard severity removed, a panic-instilling sense of enjoyment filled his glassy eyes. His smile never faltered.

"Detention at five."

The words were tinged with a strange kind of humour.

"_Your attitude will not be tolerated_."

He stepped back, straightening his shoulders. His expression levelled, and he looked down on her disdainfully.

"Get out."

Hermione left seconds later, cheeks flushed red with fear and fury.


	6. In which preparations are made

Chapter Six

"How could you let this happen?"

Ron stared at Hermione across the desk they shared with Harry.

"_Me?_" She said in disbelief. "This is my fault?"

"You could have at least pretended to listen! He's a... well you know what he is Hermione!"

She sighed. "I just lost it. I was so angry... I couldn't stand listening to all the ridiculous regulations he was spouting."

"You're a bloody fool."

"RON. This is _not_ what I need right now."

She looked to Harry, who faced her with sad green eyes. He took in a breath as he prepared to speak.

"I'm sorry Hermione, but... Ron's sort of right."

Her mouth fell open. "This is just isn't my day, is it?" A tear choked its way out of her firm facade, forcing her eyes to well.

Harry put a hand across the table to her, patting her arm.

"Sorry... It's just... This is dangerous."

"You're going to be alone with him!" Ron said, watching Harry's hand carefully. "_Alone_. With a," his voice dropped to a whisper. "A Death Eater."

Hermione sighed. The reality of the situation had sunk in during her afternoon lessons. After allowing herself five minutes to let out the angry sobs stored up from her experience in the classroom, she had stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, wondering how she would break this to her friends.

"I know." She said gently after a moment's reflection. Ron looked up into her eyes, his expression blank and hopeless. "I just hated it so much. I lost concentration." She paused, letting out a tiny, sad laugh. "And I feel very stupid about it now, I promise you."

A bleak silence formed around the trio. Harry mused quietly, his eyes closed. Ron stared at the table rather than look at Hermione, whose damp eyes belied the still-firm expression she was trying to maintain. Malfoy had lifted her, thrown her, hurt her. He wasn't afraid to throw his weight around. And now she would face him alone.

"We've got an hour. When this class ends."

Two sets of eyes fell on Harry. His face was a picture of clarity and leadership. He locked his gaze to Hermione's.

"Things could get dangerous. You've got to be prepared."

At five minutes to five Hermione stood outside the MAA room for the second time that day. Her wand was placed strategically in a front pocket of her robes, ready for use. A handful of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder waited patiently in her skirt pocket, lest she need to make a quick escape. A necklace imbued with the strongest Impervious Charm she could muster rested under her shirt and tie, offering a little deflection for any opening spell Malfoy could cast.

The all-too-familiar clicking and clunking of the door locks began. As the hefty door swung open, Hermione took in a deep breath, clenching her fists.

There was no-one in the doorway.

She approached slowly, craning to try and see into the now dark, barely-lit room.

Still nothing.

From a shadowed distance, a soft voice beckoned.

"_Come in_."

Hermione swallowed audibly. She stepped into the classroom, and the door swung shut swiftly behind her.


	7. In which there is conflict

Chapter Seven

The sight that befell Hermione Granger threw her for longer than she would care to admit.

He was calm.

He was relaxed.

He was... _smiling_.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged, inclining his head. "Good of you to come."

The reflective quality of his silvery eyes had broken; instead the dim firelight glittered through them in her direction. Lucius Malfoy sat comfortably at the rear of the classroom, a small glass of what looked like brandy in his hand. His elegant velvet jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a surprisingly loose black shirt underneath.

"Please do sit down."

He kicked out a stool from under the nearest desk. Hermione approached with small steps, overwhelmed with confusion.

"_Good_ of me to come?" She repeated, reaching the stool. "I hardly had a choice."

She pulled the stool well out of Lucius's reach before settling. Her pale adversary took a sip from his glass. He smiled at her all too genuinely.

"I do believe we rather... got off on the wrong foot this morning."

Hermione stifled a disbelieving laugh. He noticed.

"I admit I have, shall we say, a somewhat vicious temper."

"That's one way of putting it," Hermione replied, still aware of the yellow bruises slowly forming under her shirt.

Lucius Malfoy rested his glass, sitting forwards. His hands came together on his lap and his face changed in the firelight. Hermione could hardly believe those placid eyes were the same ones she had seen the same morning.

"I assure you, it won't happen again."

A peculiar pang hit Hermione square in the chest. It was ridiculous to believe him, whether he looked so earnest or not.

He looked away to the nearest desk, a small smile playing at the corner of his pale lips. "I've been thinking a lot about you today."

"I-"

Hermione began to speak, but lost her words. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she thanked Merlin the room was dark.

Eventually Lucius looked up, meeting her eyes once more.

"I understand why you despise me."

No words came to Hermione. She had no idea how to handle what was happening. She had been ready for a fight, for harsh words, for imminent danger.

"I thought I might use this opportunity... to explain something to you."

She managed a nod.

Lucius reclined against the back wall once more, taking up his glass. "I know that you know what I was," he stated plainly. "A Death Eater."

Hermione found a burst a fire. "What you _still are_."

Lucius sat calmly, an eyebrow raised.

"Y-" Hermione stumbled, a hand hovering over the pocket where her wand lay stowed. "You were there. When he rose again."

"Potter told you?" He enquired, a flash of suspicion crossing his features.

"Of course."

Lucius laughed. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. The facade was falling away. This behaviour was surely all a ploy, and she had found him out. He looked at her, the smile still firm and oddly relaxed.

"One has to consider what is the safest for oneself... and one's family." His eyes were softer still. "Had I not returned when called, what do you suppose might have befallen me?"

Hermione found herself listening unwillingly. She wanted to believe there was a fine line between her and the supposed monster of a man who sat before her, but there was reason in his phrase.

"Do you _really_ think I'm here because I enjoy teaching? Or toadying to that oaf of an undersecretary?"

His honesty confounded Hermione. She was sure he had to be trying to deceive her, but to what purpose? All Lucius was doing was exposing his own shortcomings. What could he want with her?

"I'm here because it's _safe _here, Miss Granger." He rose from his seat, draining his glass. Hermione made to rise, but he started to step away from her.

"I'm trapped here," he said, his velveteen back facing her. "Hiding from a twenty-years-old mistake."

He walked away a little further towards the lit fire, leaving Hermione sat alone at the far wall. She watched his silhouette go, conflicted. It was hard to make out what was going on. He turned, his face half shadowed, and his expression level.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't cause me quite so much bother in future classes, but I suppose I ought not blame you if you do."

Hermione rose from her seat and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You may go now," he said, nodding to her. He took in a solemn breath.

She did, her mind racing with all sorts of conflicting ideas.

The door locked itself behind her. Lucius leant on the mantle above the fire, looking down into the flames. Slowly, as he lost himself to thought, a slow, wide smile returned to his face.


	8. In which there is father and son

Chapter Eight

"You know, I saw the most curious thing on my way here."

Lucius turned his eyes from the fire to the doorway. He smiled wryly.

"Draco. I rather thought you'd have come to welcome me last night."

The younger Malfoy raced forward, overconfident strides reaching his father's side.

"Why was that mudblood Granger here?"

"Serving detention," Lucius replied earnestly.

Draco's frosted eyes observed the room. "_This_ is detention? Crackling fireplaces and bottles of expensive brandy?"

Lucius smiled to his boy. "Just like home, isn't it?"

Draco ignored the frivolity hiding beneath his father's smile. "She didn't look like she'd just served a detention. She looked like-"

Lucius's silvery eyebrow rose high. "_Yes_?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter," Draco replied. He observed his father carefully. "I just wondered what you were thinking, baiting in the enemy like that and then just... letting her go." He spoke with clenched fists, his frustration welling. "If that were me, I'd-"

Lucius put a hand to his son's shoulder firmly, clamping him to the spot. "And that," he said gently, "Is why _I_ handle such situations. Your inferior temperament would get us nowhere."

Draco bit his lip angrily, then nodded.

"Allow me my methods, my boy." Lucius lifted his hand away, proffering the brandy bottle to his son, who took it happily.

Draco nodded, pouring a hefty glass out with great concentration. Lucius watched him, his eyes racing with new possibilities, possibilities he was not inclined to allow his firstborn to interfere with.

"You have no reason to distrust me."

* * *

"_What?_" Asked Ron.

"Tell me again," said Ginny.

"You mean to say-" added Harry.

"WHAT I MEAN-" interrupted Hermione, "is exactly what I told you. He apologised to me. He was... normal. And honest." She sighed a little helplessly. "It was all very strange."

"You don't mean honest though," said Ron. "Not really."

"Well I don't know."

"It's a trap."

All eyes fell to Ginny.

"He must be doing some weird thing to win you over," the redhead mused. "Maybe it's to get close to Harry."

"Or to Dumbledore's Army," Harry added, nodding to Ginny with happy agreement.

"He's spying on us, mate."

"I suppose he could be, Ron."

"But what does he want?"

"Maybe he's here on You Know Who's orders."

Hermione found herself fading from the conversation, and perhaps even wishing she'd never started it. If she had made up some story where Malfoy had been perfectly beastly to her, tormented her, been rough, or cruel or upsetting, then she would have been alone with her thoughts hours ago. Instead her friends had bombarded her the moment she returned to the Gryffindor common room, and she hadn't had a moment to get things clear.

Everything was so unreal. She had gone into that room to face a Death Eater, and found what appeared to be an ordinary man. Could he be that simple? Lucius Malfoy was power-hungry enough to make such a mistake, for certain, but was he human enough to live to regret it?

It seemed so. His courtesy and plainness had thrown Hermione's sensibilities, but there was something yet more peculiar.

When he spoke to her, she felt something.

Unfortunately the only thing she could find to liken the sensation to was the time that she had first caught Viktor Krum looking at her. The experience was something like alarm mixed with flattery, with a tinge of the kind of curiosity that one knows is most certainly wrong to possess. Hermione shook her head, rubbing her eyes a little. It was even hard to describe, let alone explain what purpose it should have in the same room as a Malfoy. Merlin knows she'd never looked at Draco that way. His glances at her only instilled the urge to punch his snotty face in.

But Malfoy senior... Something different, and entirely unlike anger, struck her in that classroom.

"Hermione?"

A hard shove knocked Hermione's elbow out from under her. Dazed, she looked up to Ron, gathering herself up from her slouch.

"Sorry, we're keeping you up with all this, aren't we?" Ginny said with a kind smile.

"It has been rather a long day," Hermione said. It was about the most earnest response she could offer them.

Moments later she was making her way up to the fifth year dormitories, head reeling from a far more shocking day than she had been equipped for. All she needed now was for Dumbledore to reappear, telling everyone he'd decided to live as a Muggle apply for **Popstars: The Rivals**, and that they could all go on battling Voldemort alone. That'd be about all she needed to make her day complete.

Settling down to sleep with a heavy head, Hermione found herself somewhat ashamed to find a pair of silvery eyes settling softly into her weary imagination.


	9. In which there is rambling

Chapter Nine

Hermione managed to reach the weekend without having to see the so-called Professor Malfoy. She ate quickly in the Great Hall for the days following the detention, never glancing once to the top table, fearful of the silver eyes she may have had to meet.

The weekend came, and with it duties of an extra-curricular nature. Saturday afternoon was spent, as usual, avoiding Umbridge's guard-dog students and sneaking down the familiar paths of the Forbidden Forest, wherein Grawp waited happily for his visit.

The huge creature sat beside his tree, clapping thunderously as the sight of his young friend excited him. Each clap sent a wave of volume through the trees, uprooting nearby animals and birds that flew over Hermione's head as she reached the young giant.

"MYO-NEE!"

Hermione sighed.

"Close enough," she said with a smile, dropping the hefty bag of meat and vegetables she had brought to vary out Grawp's diet of whatever happened to be passing by that he could grab and swallow whole. The giant took the bag gratefully, emptying half the contents into his mouth at once. He chewed slowly, looking down at the girl beside him with a heavily furrowed brow.

"Myo-nee sad."

She looked up at him, blinking into the fading sunlight.

"No Grawp. I'm not sad."

Grawp's confused expression did not dissipate.

"Myo-nee not happee…" He offered.

Hermione sighed. Hagrid's brother wasn't the ideal choice to have this conversation with, but he would certainly be more useful than Ginny, who had a tiresome habit of answering back with a detailed analysis of everything Hermione had said.

"Listen for a moment Grawp," she began heavily. "Just listen. You don't have to understand it all." Hermione took in a breath, wrapping her arms around herself against the growing chill of the forest.

"There's a man at the castle… And I thought he was a bad man. A very bad man. But now I'm not sure. He is, I suppose, _just a man_. And all people can change, or can be more than just good or bad. Sometimes I keep secrets, or I lie, or I break the rules, but that doesn't mean that I'm a bad person. Snape was supposedly bad, but now Dumbledore trusts him with everything. If he could come back from something like the Death Eaters, then who's to say that Lucius Malfoy couldn't? If it is all just about greed, then that is bad, but not really as bad as I thought."

Hermione let out another sigh.

"It was all so much simpler when I could just hate him from a distance."

A rumble caught her attention. Grawp, totally lost to her musings, was emptying the second half of the food sack into his mouth. She stood up, catching his eye.

"Is Grawp full of food now?"

"Mmmmm," the giant huffed happily.

"Wonderful." She picked up the empty sack, shoving it into her schoolbag. "I should go now," she said a little sheepishly. "I'll teach you some new words tomorrow, allright?"

At the mention of "words", his eyes gleamed eagerly. Hermione wasn't entirely sure if Grawp knew that the "words" were the things he actually said, or the pumpkin pasties she gave him for saying them right, but learning was learning.

On her walk back from the forest, the things that she had said came back to haunt her. Somewhere in her ramblings, she had realised that she no longer hated Lucius Malfoy. She may even have gone so far as to say she was starting to understand him. And that was the problem. Hermione was struggling to work out why she wanted to know so much about him. It had shocked her how freely he offered his story, almost to the point of suspicion, but it appeared his sincerity had won her over despite her better judgement.

_Why does he have to be so frustrating?_

A creeping voice in the back of Hermione's mind added "_And handsome_".

She stopped dead in the grounds. No. That thought would have to be deeply buried. Where had it even come from? Hermione, quite obviously, had always set her sights to more mature company for her intellect's sake, but thoughts like that were pushing the envelope far more than she had anticipated.

For a moment confusion reigned, and Hermione almost felt like crying. A kind of anger at herself was welling up in her chest, a blind fury that she was letting such complications rule her. She let out a breath through gritted teeth, sucking back a tear.

_I am stronger than this. This is pitiful, and foolish, and not worth my time._

And it was decided.

"Miss Granger."

The almost-whispered, silky smooth voice shattered her decision no sooner it was made.

Hermione, too shocked to turn around, half-gasped and half-winced.

Lucius rounded her, coming to meet her eyes. He was head to toe in a black winter cloak, walking cane in a gloved hand.

"Yes… sir?" She choked out.

A curve at the corner of his thin lips caught her eye.

"May I enquire as to what you're doing so far out of bounds at this time of the evening?"

She looked back to the forest path, where her muddy prints were clear, then off to the castle in the distance. Shame and panic forced her eyes down to his boots, where the same mud caked his soles. Something clicked in Hermione's mind, and the dormant fury gave a rumble.

"I could ask the same of you, sir."

She met his eyes, trying only to quiver inwardly. Lucius's lips broke into a smile, a brief flash of sharp, bright teeth. His glassy eyes warmed a little.

"Touché."

A chilling breeze whistled up from the forest behind them, pushing Hermione towards the castle path. Lucius looked to the illuminated building, and for a moment she stole a glance. His pale face shone in the dim afternoon, white-blonde hair toyed with by the growing breeze. His eyes flashed back to catch her in an instant.

"I think it would only be prudent, as your… _educator_, to escort you back to the Great Hall."

She didn't trust the spark behind his eyes, but she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"I suppose I agree," she replied, starting to walk before the silence could settle in once more.


	10. In which they walk

He walked with slow strides, and she found it difficult to keep step. Part of her felt hurried to reach the safety of the castle as the cloak of the winter night began to shroud them. He seemed in no hurry, his expression thoughtful and placid.

"I suppose you shan't tell me what you were doing in the forest..."

Hermione wasn't sure if it was a question. She looked to the tall ice-blonde for confirmation. His eyes locked on hers, head tilted in expectance.

"With Professor Umbridge patrolling the corridors up there," at this she yanked her neck a little at the illuminated castle before them. "It's nice to know there's somewhere she's not watching."

Lucius smiled. "So true. I was seeking a little peace and quiet myself." He looked down at his footing at this and Hermione, from the corner of her eye, decided it might be safe to take a look at him again. "It's beastly trying to read with all those ghosts about."

Hermione unleashed a groan of agreement instinctively. She knew only too well the unwelcome fury of a translucent entity popping up in the middle of _Advanced Runes_ just when you were getting somewhere. "Not to mention the students."

He laughed. "Indeed. Fortunately I've managed to minimise that area of annoyance. I've switched quarters to the unused rooms at the back of the greenhouses, much more peaceful."

A strange connection seemed to be forming. Hermione was certain he was trying to make it stick. In some ways, she knew that her reply could cement it into place if she let it.

"Umbridge's watch don't seem to settle there much," he continued. "If you're interested in that sort of information."

This was most certainly not a moment to look at Lucius Malfoy. To look, to acknowledge, to reply in any positive respect would be asking for trouble. Hermione turned her head slowly to the hint of promise in his curved smile.

"Usef-ful to k-know," she stammered suddenly, against all judgement.

Immediately ashamed, she looked away and stepped up her pace. The glowing steps of the castle doors were seconds away.

A kind of panic flew through Lucius's mind. There was a flicker of a chance, in this last moment before the halls of Hogwarts swallowed them again, before she threw up the barricades of classroom etiquette and pretended he was just another member of the faculty.

Almost without thinking, he reached for her arm. Her wrist caught gently, the girl turned, sharp to his move. Eyes wide and chest heaving, she looked down at his gloved hand.

Everything hung on the next motion, and he knew it. The whole scheme was either about to catch fire, or go up in smoke. It was this kind of moment that the Dark Lord had once singled Lucius Malfoy out for. If you wanted someone to turn a blade to a rose with a whisper, he was the undoubted master of the task. The irony of putting his old skills to use wasn't lost on the man who, twenty years later, stood on the steps of his old school, holding a fragile moment in those same, dark hands.

His pitch reduced to a whisper as a tender finger slid slowly along Hermione's pulsing wrist.

"You're not what I expected, Miss Granger."

She met his eyes, confused.

"I like you a lot more than I ought to."

Slowly, deftly, he let her go, pacing on up the stairs. He reached the double oak doors, pushing one slowly open, peering inside. No one. He smiled to himself for a moment before reducing the expression. He turned to see her frozen, watching him from the first step. Something clicked inside his silvery mind. He had her.

Lucius Malfoy smiled the warmest smile.

"Come inside. You'll be cold standing there."

She did.


	11. In which Hermione is lost

Lucius ordinarily cared for sleeping alone. There was always something to be said for stretching out across a lavishly-upholstered divan, rolling lazily around into various positions of comfort, strains of the Wizard Wireless Network playing heavily with your senses.

Tonight, he was restless in his own indulgence. Now that his plans were in action, he felt alive with a fire he hadn't experienced since his youth. Unleashed from the shackles of the Manor and the Ministry, here he could master his own destiny. There were no orders to follow within the safety of Hogwarts' walls. Only his agenda reigned supreme.

And now he could not act upon it.

He sighed aloud. It was a great shame that the best laid plans took such time to bear fruit.

"Very dramatic. Lovely, truly."

The familiar nasal tone shook him to the core.

"You could have knocked," he said, bolting from the bed.

"One doesn't usually 'knock' the fireplace." Came the reply.

Lucius looked to the sooty grate, perturbed. "Dolores said they were disconnected."

"She did me a little favour."

He gritted his teeth. "Rather invasive, I find that."

"Dolores didn't think so, what with me being your wife and all..."

Narcissa settled pertly on the corner of her husband's dishevelled bed. Lucius made no move toward her, instead inching back to the wall for solidarity. She smiled approvingly at this.

"You know... someone told me you've been, well, rather a _bastard_ since you got here."

"Shocking."

His wife sniggered dryly. "You're not going to gather much information for the Dark Lord that way..."

Her chiding tone sent a shiver through him. As if she really knew what working for He Who Must Not Be Named actually meant. Lucius did not reply, choosing instead to stare at the embers of the fireplace, willing them to evaporate Narcissa's intrusion.

She caught his drift, rising elegantly from the bed-curb. "A gentle reminder, _dearest_."

She swayed to the hearth in all her black-laced glory, stopping only to pass him an expectant look. And then she was gone.

Suddenly Lucius felt much less secure; the harsh realities of the outside world had penetrated his self-important bubble. Deflated, he sank back to his bed. He brandished his snake-topped wand, moving a large tile of granite from the flagstones into the fireplace, hoping that the next errant visitor would suffer a nasty headache upon impact.

* * *

Hermione made it to Thursday morning simply through the mantra of "_Don't even think about it_". She made her remaining weekend as busy as possible, filling it with lesson plans for Grawp and as much studying as she could cope with, followed by healthy doses of supporting Quidditch practices between classes, helping first-years find their way around the library and yet more diligent study.

If, just once or twice, a stray thought of a silver-blonde nature had strayed into her mind, she didn't care to admit it. Even if it had been more than once or twice.

"D'you tink he'll punish you?" Luna asked.

Hermione leapt from her hurried thoughts, remembering who and where she was.

"Punish?" She repeated unsteadily.

"Mister Malfoy," Luna reinstated. "D'you tink he'll punish you again?"

"Oh, um... No," Hermione fell over her words. "It was all, well, somewhat, um, a misunderstanding. That business last week. No punishing necessary. Sorted. All sorted out."

"Oh good," said Luna obliviously, smiling at her friend.

Before Hermione could collect her runaway thoughts the door had opened. The class filed in, and sudden yelps were heard from those nearest the front. Hermione and Luna were surprised to see students moving involuntarily, as though an invisible rope was pulled about their waists. As each student entered, they were pulled to a certain desk, upon which an enchanted card rested with their emblazoned names.

"Magnetism charm," Luna said, mildly impressed.

"As if Professor Malfoy needs it," giggled a Slytherin girl, flinging herself forward and letting the spell guide her. Her laughing friends did the same.

Hermione had never felt the urge to retreat so strongly. The thought of being under any spell disturbed her, but one of his...

Eventually she was the last in the doorway. Feeling foolish as the rest of the class began to look at her, she stepped in, expecting the pull.

Instead, there was a hand. A hand with a card like those on the desks. A gloved hand. She knew the feel of that glove.

"I had a feeling you'd be the last in," Lucius said, slipping the card into her hand. He walked swiftly to a desk right in front of the blackboard where the only empty seat remained. She followed his long strides.

"Settle down," he said loudly to the gaggle of girls at the back. "I trust you approve of your new seating arrangements."

A black-haired girl of a mature persuasion raised one hand, toying with a lock of her hair in the other.

"Actually Sir," she said softly. "I don't think I'll get a good view from here."

The girls surrounding her giggled again. Lucius took in a calm breath, his eyes narrowing on the girl in question. Hermione turned her head to look at her, unaware of how vicious her own expression was turning. An indignant rage hid itself amongst the swirl of other feelings in her mind.

"How _unfortunate_ for you." The amusement in his tone was as clear as the smirk building across his features. "Now," he said, turning to the eager chalkboard, "some errors to avoid when divining with runes..."

The blackboard etched away happily with Lucius inspecting it, and Hermione tried to follow its motions. She had never found her concentration to be so inhibited; it was as if the words dissolved as she tried to focus on them. Instead she could hear the tread of his tailored shoes scuffing the floorboards, and the swish that his long jacket made as he slipped it off.

The jacket dropped onto a chair, and he turned to reveal a fitted waistcoat, in what was, she supposed, a very natural silver and black fashion. Four days of avoiding the thought seemed to have exacerbated it entirely. She couldn't even hear what he was saying. Her eyes drifted absently over the slender, elegant form, from the smooth blonde hair over his shoulders, down a slim chest and arms. Over a somewhat over-fitted pair of trousers that she wondered how she hadn't noticed sooner.

A shock of reality soared in with all its volume and pace. The room suddenly swam with noise, and the words on the board made a little more sense. Feeling her cheeks turn pink, Hermione put her head down to copy up the current list of errors, praying he hadn't seen her distant but roving eyes.

Had she looked up to the quiet sense of triumph in Lucius's own eyes, she might have turned a deeper shade of red.


	12. In which Hermione is found

She had decided it couldn't be a spell. Hermione, in all her extensive knowledge of potion-making, knew full well that there was no love charm that caused this kind of scattered fascination. If there were, the sensation of fear when she saw him wouldn't exist. This was no dreamy charm of attraction. It was becoming undeniable, and frankly, quite frightening.

Hermione stood in the Room of Requirement, overseeing Neville as he tried endlessly to combust a model of a Death Eater. Instead of watching the boy, she found her eyes moving over the model, observing the black cowl, the silvery mask. It was fashioned from Harry's memories of the graveyard, of the shadowed circle of followers he had witnessed. She wondered how many years Lucius had worn those things, and whether it was true that he had hung up his hood for the last time.

Perhaps it was better to believe that he had. It made the steadily growing connection between them seem less daunting. If those silver eyes held little more than regret, then there wasn't as much to fear when they met hers. If he did intend to hide at Hogwarts until Voldemort's downfall, then she might have almost three years of this still ahead of her.

Three years.

She sighed.

"Sorry," said Neville, hanging his head. "I know I'm rubbish."

Hermione refocused, offering Neville a kind smile. "No, I'm sorry. I wasn't actually watching you then..."

"Thanks," he replied. "That makes me feel _loads_ better."

"Oh, I-" she tried to start again, faltering. Instead she stopped, straightening up importantly.

"Look," she began again, stepping closer to the model. "You're just not fiery enough with it. Reducto is a charm that requires anger to channel correctly. You need to build up a rage."

"Anger," Neville said, narrowing his eyes weakly. "Right..."

The second batch of fruitless attempts began. Hermione found her mind wandered once more, back to the strange collection of emotions that had set up camp in the front of her mind. Thursday lunches were going to be the main problem. Outside of the classroom she could find a hundred things to occupy her time, what with the Order, and Grawp, and classes, and encouraging Ron at practice, and... well, she need never run into Lucius again if she was careful.

But being stuck in the classroom was another thing entirely. She felt as though he had moved her to the front deliberately, and he spent the whole hour filling her eye-line, and talking through everything in that silky voice. And talking so... intelligently. That was most irritating. From the scraps of his lectures that she had managed to focus on, Hermione found that he was actually extremely well educated on the subject, which forced her to exude the kind of reluctant respect for him that had previously been reserved for Severus Snape.

And he kept _looking_ at her. She felt as though she couldn't leave her eyes on him for too long, for fear that he would see her watching and meet them again. It had happened so many times in an hour that it didn't bear thinking about. It was as though he wanted her reaction, every look so expectant, as if he was waiting for her to speak. Part of her wanted to. The other part was afraid of what she might say if she did.

As Hermione continued her train of thought, Neville Longbottom noticed she was once again ignoring him. With every practice of his spell that went unnoticed, Neville found his focus switching to the Gryffindor brainbox, his fury slowly building as he went on casting blindly at the dummy.

"REDUCTO!"

Out of nowhere, Hermione was flying towards the double-doors that led out into the corridor, shaken from head to toe with a horrendous pain in her stomach. She hit the doors with such a force that they swung open, landing her slumped against the wall in the corridor outside. A distant thump indicated the doors had closed, followed sharply by the thump of footsteps getting nearer.

"Hermione?" A smooth voice drifted into her pained mind. "Hermione, can you hear me?"

Her eyes flickered open for a split second. He was there, leaning over her. How had it happened? Was it him? Was she unconscious? Had Neville actually managed to cast the right spell?

It all seemed so impossible. She gave a triumphant "_Urgh_" in reply, and passed out.

Harry, shaken by the sudden spell and the sight of his friend flying out of the doorway, shook himself out of his stupor and raced for the doors. Neville was at his heels, murmuring incessantly.

"I didn't mean to, I-I think I lost my aim. I was trying to be angry, but I-I... Oh Merlin I _really _didn't mean to..."

Harry cautiously opened one door a little, looking out into the corridor. Wary of Umbridge's spies patrolling, he poked his head out just a little.

She was gone.

In a panic, Harry bounded out of the doors, spinning in the corridor until he found a cloaked form stepping away. A vicious fury flew through his mind as he took in at once the long, blonde hair held back in a black velvet bow, the billowing cloak as the figure rushed on, the sight of Hermione, limp and lifeless, disappearing from view in his arms.


End file.
